A Rose In Flanders Fields (14 page)

Matthew looked at me with a little smile. ‘I can hear echoes of Jack Carlisle in that question,’ he said, with real warmth. ‘The fact is, we can’t tell whether the Turks have given up, or whether they’re just waiting for us to redeploy to Gallipoli before they launch another offensive.’

‘But surely, with things going so badly already at Gallipoli, the sensible thing would be to do just that? I mean, the Dardanelles Committee –’

‘Evangeline!’ Mother’s voice cut throughmy words. ‘Leave Matthew alone, dear, I’m sure he’d rather have a drink and some peace and quiet than talk about military strategy.’

Matthew waited until she’d passed us by, then winked at me. ‘We’ll talk about it later, and I look forward to it,’ he said in a low voice, and squeezed my arm before letting go and following mother to the sitting room.

I went upstairs to change for dinner, and Mary helped me. I found this very hard to get used to; since I had first left home almost a year ago, and I so often slept in my clothes now, it felt like a dreadful waste of everyone’s time to have someone ready my gown and sort my jewellery. Once dressed, I sat before my mirror and looked at my reflection with a rare twinge of sadness for what I saw. There had been shock and dismay on Mother’s face when, on my first home leave and removing my hat, I’d revealed short, clumpy-cut hair.

It had seemed such a trivial thing to make her react in such a way, that I’d grown cross and simply said, ‘Lice, Mother,’ before realising her reaction to something she could actually see was only representative of the way she felt about my chosen wartime role. To soften the air between us I made sure to dress my hair as prettily as I could while I was at home, and she had wordlessly shown her gratitude by helping me.

But tonight it was Mary’s job, and by the time she had finished adding little sprays of feather and beads, I actually felt quite feminine again and I wished Will were here to see it; the wide, belted waist of my gown fitted neatly and I knew he would have loved to feel the suggestion of curves beneath the fringed silk, tantalisingly separated from his touch by the smooth material. The small heels I wore raised me a little higher, but I would still have been shorter than him, my cheek would fit in the hollow of his shoulder, my head brushing his jawline. If he was here to hold me now, I would slide my arms around his neck and, clothing or not, no part of me would be separated from him, not one inch of me left cold and alone.

But Will wasn’t here. While I stood in this bright, clean room, dressed like a princess and with my eyes closed in sudden yearning, my husband lay in a field in another country, in a muddy uniform and wet boots, weighed down with weapons and wire-cutters, rations and rifle, blanket and bayonet. He might be talking with his fellow soldiers, taking his turn at sleeping, or playing cards. He might be thinking of me, he might be thinking only of somewhere dry and warm to sleep, not caring if he was alone or with twenty others. He might be using those strong, talented fingers to write me a love-filled letter, or to craft some piece of scrap paper into a boat, or a tree – never a rose – or he might be using them to load mortars or clean his gun.

But whatever he was doing, he wasn’t here.

‘He’ll be fine, Evie.’ Mary’s voice cut through my sudden, tight-throated dismay at the direction my thoughts had taken. I felt a tear slide onto my cheek, and wiped it quickly away.

‘I know. I’m as sure as I can ever be that he’s safe at the moment. But he’s…’ I trailed off, shaking my head.

‘Too far away,’ Mary supplied gently, and I gave her a trembling smile, and nodded.

Dinner started off as the usual stiffly polite affair it always was when the Wingfields came. I gathered they were still regular visitors, as if they couldn’t quite trust Mother to run Oaklands properly now Uncle Jack had gone away, but I was passionately relieved that neither David nor his younger brother Robert saw fit to join them.

‘Are you all set for your travels?’ Mother asked Matthew. He nodded and opened his mouth to answer, only to be pre-empted by Clarissa, who seemed unable to pass a single comment without using it to needle me in some fashion.

‘Quite understand the men going off to fight, but surely not the place for a well-bred young lady.’

‘On the contrary,’ I said, keeping my voice even. ‘It’s the perfect way for us to contribute. Free up others who might be better suited for helping with war work, or doing the men’s jobs. I know I’d be useless at that.’

‘That’s not the only choice, of course.’

‘What do you mean?’ But we all knew.

‘Well, you’re twenty-one now, isn’t it time you were thinking about marriage?’

I raised my glass and caught the eye of Simon, who stepped forward and poured me some more wine. For a moment I concentrated on thanking him, while I composed my reply. ‘I’m sure there will be plenty of time for that when the war is over,’ I said at last, somewhat evasively.

‘I wouldn’t be too sure. All the young men are disappearing rather quickly,’ she said, waving her glass at Simon, too. ‘The last thing you want is to be left at home, with only the weak, the enfeebled and the cowards to choose from.’

I couldn’t help it. ‘When do David and Robert join their units?’

Matthew coughed, drawing our attention, and I saw his face had gone red as if he’d swallowed his food too quickly. As I began to turn back to Clarissa, however, I saw the grin that touched the corners of his mouth, though he raised his napkin to hide it; it was his turn to remind me of Uncle Jack now, and I wondered how Samuel and Lydia had managed to produce such a thoroughly decent son.

Clarissa scowled at her husband. ‘Those are your boys she’s mocking, Matthew.’

‘You ought to be pleased they’re not going,’ Mother said, and shame crept over me at the sudden desolation in her voice.

‘They have rather too much to contribute at home to go gallivanting overseas,’ Clarissa said. I daren’t look at Mother, and even Samuel flinched.

‘Now, dear,’ he said. ‘Lily’s son’s a fine young man, doing a very brave thing.’

‘Of course,’ she said quickly, and reached out to squeeze Mother’s hand. ‘I didn’t mean to imply otherwise, darling. Please forgive me?’

Mother inclined her head and removed her hand from Clarissa’s, pretending she wanted to pick up her wine glass. I remembered her telling me what she privately thought of Clarissa, and my topsy-turvy feelings towards her swerved back to warmth once again.

Clarissa returned to the attack. ‘Of course, now the Kalteng Star is missing, your choices will be far more limited,’ she went on, wiping my smile away before it had fully formed.

‘Clarissa!’ Matthew’s hand hit the table, making us all jump, but she turned a calm face on him and spoke quietly.

‘I’m only saying what we’re all thinking.’

‘It’s not your place,’ he told her tightly, and for the first time I saw his eyes harden as he looked at her.

‘She’s right though,’ Samuel said. ‘You’re a pretty enough girl, Evangeline, but you might think about growing your hair again. Gentlemen don’t like to think they’re paying court to a tomboy.’

I didn’t know what to say, and looked to Mother for support, but she had turned inward as she drank her wine, too fast, and I don’t think she’d even heard anything after Matthew had thumped the table.

‘I’m not trying to attact gentlemen,’ I said, allowing some of my own anger into my voice. ‘I have a job to do.’

‘And I’m sure it’s a lot of fun, playing glamorous nursemaid to those soldiers,’ Clarissa said, ‘but you won’t find a husband among the rank and file. An officer now, that would be quite acceptable.’

‘I don’t want an officer! I’m –’ I managed to choke the word off just in time. I might have been tempted to blurt out the truth earlier, to Mother, but not in front of the Wingfields. ‘I’m keen on someone already.’

Samuel raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh? What’s his family?’

Matthew sighed. ‘What does it matter?’ He looked at me with an apologetic half-smile, which I didn’t return; nice or not, he was a Wingfield, and I was too angry with them.

Lydia had so far been silent, but I could feel her eyes on me now, although she was speaking to her son. ‘Your father’s right, Matthew. What if that awful maid of hers owns up about where she’s hidden that diamond, and it comes back into the family? Whoever Evie marries –’

‘Must be worthy of it, I know!’ I said, my voice rising. ‘But Lizzy didn’t steal the diamond, and I hope it never turns up.’

‘But this man you’re talking about has the right –’

‘He doesn’t want it!’

‘He knows about it?’ Samuel said, leaning forward, suddenly eager.

‘Yes, he’s always known about it. He loves me even without it, and I love him.’

Now Mother seemed to swim back from her dark thoughts about Lawrence, and take note of the conversation. ‘Is this the same young man you were seeing before you went away?’

The truth was pushing at me from inside, desperate to escape in its complete form, but all I would allow was, ‘Yes. His name’s Will Davies, he was the butcher’s boy before the war.’

There was a silence that stretched and stretched, and then Clarissa spoke. ‘The butcher’s boy. Frank Markham’s?’

‘I didn’t know you knew Mr Markham.’

She didn’t reply, and began eating again, and I wondered where she might have crossed paths with our local butcher, living in Shrewford as she did. But the question was pushed aside as Mother spoke.

‘I thought you’d seen sense where that boy was concerned, Evangeline. He’s never going to amount to anything, Mr Markham has a new apprentice now, and he’ll be the one who takes over the business if Markham doesn’t come back from the war.’

‘He has a new apprentice because Will is away fighting!’ I was finding it hard to keep my temper. ‘He’s over there right now, risking his life for –’

‘Yes, yes, all very admirable,’ Samuel broke in, ‘but you need to be concerned with this family, and how it will go on. Especially now…’ He seemed to realise he must not complete that sentence, and coughed into silence.

Mother pushed her plate away and stood up.‘I’m going to lie down,’ she said in a trembling voice.

‘Lily, darling, don’t be silly,’ Clarissa said. ‘Samuel didn’t mean anything. Did you?’

He cleared his throat, and stood up too, speaking more gently. ‘No, of course not. Young Lawrence will do splendidly over there, and then come back, marry a nice girl, and the Creswell family will march on.’

I looked around the table. At Mother, standing on legs I knew would be shaking beneath her expensive gown; then at Lydia, her face directed down at her plate; at Clarissa, eyes on her father-in-law, who stood with his hand outstretched towards his hostess; and at Matthew, white-faced and still as he looked at his father. Why was I here? I felt Flanders calling out to me, as surely as I heard the heavy ticking of the hallway grandfather clock cutting through the silence in this room.

At last Mother reached out and accepted Samuel’s conciliatory touch. ‘Perhaps I shall just go to the sitting room and wait for you there,’ she said.

‘Don’t you want dessert?’

She shook her head, and Samuel laid his napkin down. ‘Then none of us shall have it.’

‘Why ever not?’ Mother said. ‘Mrs Hannah has been working very hard, she’ll be most upset if you refuse it now. I’ll go and wait, you stay and finish.’

I didn’t want to stay either, and I was surprised at the strength of my longing to be back at Number Twelve with Boxy, even freezing cold and exhausted. If I had the choice between that, and sitting here being served exquisite food on fine bone china, surrounded by the Wingfields, there would be no hesitation.

But I stayed, if only to ensure they didn’t make off with the silverware.

Later, after an excruciating evening listening to all the reasons why Will Davies would be the ruination of me, and having to bite my tongue several times to avoid snapping that it was too late and I didn’t care what anyone thought, the Wingfields left. I was at the end of an extremely short tether by now, and as Mother prepared to retire for the night, I stood up and said, ‘We’re married.’

She looked at me blankly for a moment, then went absolutely white, and sat down. ‘What?’ she whispered.

‘Will and me. Married. We got married right before he left for France.’

‘But…why didn’t you tell me?’

It was not the question, or the reaction, I’d expected, and I didn’t know how to answer. ‘Because of this,’ I said at length. ‘Because of how you would react, how it would make you feel. I couldn’t bear to think you might try to stop it, and then the longer it went on, the harder it was to tell you the truth.’

Mother shook her head. ‘You thought I would try to stop you?’

‘After what you said, yes.’

‘What I said?’

‘The same as Lydia said tonight. About my husband being…worthy.’ Anger bubbled to the surface. ‘Will Davies is worth a million Kalteng Stars!’

Mother held up a hand. ‘I understand, but you’ve chosen to risk our future by marrying someone who, if he lives, and of course I hope he does, will return to you with no livelihood, no money and no prospects.’

‘He’s got a profession.’

‘He was still the apprentice when he –’

‘He’s a skilled man, an artist.’

‘An artist?’ She rose again and began to pace in her agitation. ‘What on earth are you thinking? What kind of life will you have, the two of you? No Kalteng Star to win your way into society, a marriage so far beneath you as to be laughable, and your defence is that he’s an
artist
?’

‘He creates beautiful things,’ I said, and the memory of the joyful innocence we’d known twisted my insides tighter. ‘I’ll show you.’

‘I’m sure he does,’ she turned to me, and her voice gentled. ‘Darling, listen to me. Artist or not, talented or not, he’s not right for this family. Your loyalties are to
this family
. You have to put an end to this.’

‘No.’

She looked at me helplessly, and with a surge of relief I saw something battling in her eyes: she understood. She really did, deep down. But she was scared. Everything was falling apart, and she was just plain scared.

I took her hand. ‘I’m glad I’ve told you at last,’ I said softly, ‘and I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. But I love Will, I’ve loved him for three years, and he loves me. I don’t care how hard it is for us after the war, we’ll make our way as best we can. We’ll live where we can, work where we can, and we’ll be happy.’